Mackenny Moon
by Azavara D'mattiae
Summary: SQ to RN::13 years after Raven Turner dies, her daughter is still haunted by her shattering goodbye. Hiding in the muggle world as an actress, Mac is brought home only to find that all she knew is gone, and there seems to be only one man who can help.
1. Act One

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I believe we all know this by now so this will be my only disclaimer for this story…maybe.

A/N- Here be Mackenny Moon, enjoy please R&R!

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-Opening Act-

The theater was dark; everyone seated held their breath waiting for the finale of _Watcher's Hill_ to finally come.

A gasp of awe rose up amongst the audience as Miriam White crossed the stage in a speechless wave of perpetual grandeur. Her black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silken tresses, tendrils floating around her innocent face like a soft cloud.

Her voice and demeanor were heavy with pleading: "Please, Nathaniel. Please, I…_I love you!"_ she grabbed his arm in desperation. Nathaniel cast her to the side with bruising force, his eyes flaring with anger.

"Do not touch me, you vile wench," he sneered down at her through bloodshot eyes, "I love you like I love hell." he turned to leave, stalking across the stage with great purpose.

Miriam dropped to her knees, groveling at his feet, "Nathaniel, I know you love me-"

He kicked out at her.

"Nay, witch. I say once more, I cannot, I will not, I do not love you!"

She dashed in front of him as he turned away, grabbing his hands, her eyes begging him to listen. "Nathaniel, you do love me. Perhaps your words cannot speak it, but your eyes say it, your lips bleed it, your hands and your body radiate it-" she paused to take in a shuddering breath through dawning tears, "you do love me, you do."

_"Never!"_ he spat, phlegm and saliva spraying out in his rage. They stood there staring at each other, Nathaniel's eyes hateful and biting, Miriam's eyes soft and full of love sparkling with tears.

When at last she spoke, her voice was soft and full of hurt, "Then if you truly do not love me, I do not and will not ask your love for it seems it is not something you will give me…but for our child…" she broke the eye contact and a soft sob escaped her as a secret smile teased it's way over her lips, "I ask of him for the love you will not give."

Nathaniel turned to stare at her in biter disbelief, his jaw slightly agape in surprise. The stage lights dimmed and the curtain closed.

The audience sat silently stunned, Miriam was an innocent with the vindictive nature of a seductress. Slowly the audience began its applause, turning the tentative claps into a roar of approval, the theater lights turned on and people began to leave as slowly as possible, wanting more of _Watcher's Hill._

Tarren Rivers, the player of Miriam White, wandered off backstage, lost in a daze of after-play.

"Tarren," she turned, it was Flavien Richards, the white haired, black eyed cretin whom played Nathaniel Watcher.

"Flavien, so…we did lovely tonight didn't we?"

He grinned and took her hand in his, leading her gallantly down the hall. "Tarren, _you_ were lovely," he turned her hand over and placed an intimate kiss to her palm, "Tell me," he whispered sensually, "who will you be playing next? We are all a twitter in anticipation."

Trying desperately not to wretch her hand from his, Tarren gave what she hoped was a charming smile, "Flavien, to still your fears…I will be in the biggest role of a lifetime as Danica Shardae."

"Can I have a preview to the part, or am I not privy to the information?"

Tarren sighed, "Flavien…"

He dropped to his knees, her hand still clasped in his, Tarren, I implore you to please, please, please demonstrate Danica Shardae."

Tarren took a deep breath, almost immediately her presence changed; she was no longer Tarren Rivers playing a part, she was the part.

"I just want to _sleep_. I don't want to dream, because all I see then are the people I have lost." angry tears sprang to her eyes, "I don't want to smell the stench of death and decay and rotten blood. I don't want to hear the wet sputter of someone trying to breathe past pain. I don't want to see dying _children_ whenever I close my eyes. But I am nearly queen…" her voice broke as a wave of emotion hit her and then she continued in hushed tones, "and once I am that will be my entire life. War. Death. _And I don't know how to stop it!"_ [A/N- from the story _Hawksong _by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes]

Flavien stood in awe, "Tarren, darling, I was utterly convinced that you were Danica pleading with the Dark Prince over war. Superb. Amazing. Tarren, no wonder you're an actress, you feel and in turn convince others to feel. Love, you're phenomenal."

"Thank you, Flavien," her gaze fell on a shape down the hallway and she mentally sighed in relief. Flavien's petite blond wife Mina was standing at his door worrying her lip, "You should go, Mina's waiting."

"Oh…" he frowned in distaste, "Yes, you will join us tonight for dinner, no?"

"I have plans." she scolded herself for the lie and then decided that it was Flavien and she didn't really give a flying fuck anyways.

"Of course," he kissed her lustily on the cheek, trailing his lips along her skin a little longer than necessary, "see you when rehearsal for…?"

She bit her lip in agitation, "Hero."

He gave her a mocking tilt of the head intended to be a bow. "Until Hero begins then." with that he sauntered off down the hall and entered his dressing room with Mina, throwing Tarren one last lustful look as the door closed.

"Lecherous idiot," she grumbled as she finished fumbling with the doorknob and entered her own room, "Feebleminded asshole, can't he get fucking me off his brain for two bloody second-"

"Mackenny."

Tarren froze. Mackenny…no one knew her real name, anyone that knew her name had no idea of her whereabouts. Everyone that did had been left behind- back home- back….

She whipped around, Severus Snape, the man she had called father her entire childhood, lounged across her black sofa, still oozing the black danger she had come to associate with him.

"Why…" she managed to choke out, "Why the bloody fuck are you here?"

"You are needed at home."

"No." she watched his face contort into the familiar snarl at her refusal. It was good to see nothing had really changed.

"Your family needs you, I will not force you to come but-"

"Good," she interrupted him bluntly, "I'm not going."

"Well," purred a dangerously smooth voice from behind her, "looks like we'll be forced to take her kicking and screaming after all."

Tarren turned just in time to meet electric green eyes before her world dissolved into black as her father stabbed a tranquilizer into her arm and cast several immobile spells on her. Her life just never stopped, all her demons seemed to catch up with her in the end.

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A/N- ok, I am back in school now…ecstatic cheer anyone? Two claps? One? Ah hell, someone just get me my bazooka and we'll have some dangerous fun! I knew that would get a cheer out of somebody. tear this is my Senior year…my final year of high school, I already have my college pegged and set up and my majors narrowed to three, my chapters will come slower now, I'm sure you all understand this yes? I don't have computer stuff in school until fourth quarter so not till end of the year will stuff be posted while I'm in school. Enjoy, please R&R! man, where did summer go, seriously… 


	2. Chapter One: The Scene Proceeds

A/N- I was told to continue this story, my source will remain anonymous, but I was still told, and I haven't forgotten about my other stories, per say, it's just, well, we'll say I'm at a permanent stand still- but I'm actually doing my own writings again, not a whole lot of Fanfic stuff, but _actual_ stuff, my stuff. I'm proud of myself for that, especially for We Were Pirates and A Girl Named Jack. But, yeah, I know I have these Fanfics to continue as well and it would be a sort of blasphemy if I continued my original stuff and stopped my FFs altogether. Maybe when I actually complete them all I'll just write my stuff, but till then, let the Fanfic reign supreme.

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**-Chapter One: The Scene Proceeds with Nostalgic Envy-**

Mac came around to the dull throb of her head and the low chatter of someone talking, maybe laughing.

She groaned loudly, rolled over, and fell face first onto what could only be the floor; _"Mother fucker!"_ she cursed brashly, bringing the conversation in the next room to an abrupt halt.

She didn't know where she was, she didn't much care, she couldn't quite remember why she was there, but she knew she was _there_, if that made a lick of sense, which Mac highly doubted. She also couldn't remember how she had gotten there; all she remembered of that distant ache was a pair of fierce emerald eyes.

Once again she cursed violently, _"Mother Fucker!" _that said, she flopped back to the floor and into darkness, emeralds swimming through her nightmares like angels through dreams.

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Harry had been arguing furtively with Remus Lupin through the flames of his fireplace, when something Remus had said had struck him as funny, his laughter had died short when he heard the solid thud behind him, followed shortly with:"Mother Fucker." Maybe he shouldn't laugh at that, after all she hadn't come willingly, but all the same…

He grinned harshly and turned fully to face his "prisoner".

She had fallen off the couch Harry called his bed and onto the floor. He went swiftly to her and pulled her listlessly into his arms.

She was soft.

So soft.

So innocent and pure.

Holding her, Harry remembered a younger Mackenny, with wide pink eyes and large black curls. A more innocent Mac; a Mac untouched by the world, untouched by the realities of death and destruction. A Mac who knew nothing of chaos or heartbreak; who had yet to experience boys, parties, and faux-true love.

Where had that Mackenny gone?

Why had she run away from everyone, from everything at thirteen? Had the shock of discovering that Sirius was in fact her father been too much? Harry didn't think so. He believed, though he had kept all his scrutiny's to himself, that Mac had left because she had no longer felt loved, no longer needed. Had she stayed, he knew without a doubt that Miles' unique philosophy on life would have crushed her. But maybe not, she had survived through the death of her mother without ever shedding a tear, in public at least.

But here she was now, in his arms, and holding her felt too damn good to be any good at all. He felt a wave of longing wash over him.

_Nostalgia._ Personally, Harry reflected grimly, he called it Hell.

He wondered why looking at her now would bring about thoughts of things he could never have, and with them an ache that weighed heavy on his heart. He had never felt this way before, he had never truly wanted the things holding Mac evoked; if she had been anyone else, Harry would've taken his reaction as pure lust, but it was her, and Christ, she was so damn young.

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Mac woke to the feel of a body pressed against hers. She stretched gingerly, working out all the kinks and cranks that had worked their way into her joints; then she felt her way along the body against hers and knew it to be male.

Reaching up with a tentative hand Mac felt along a stubble covered chin and then began to trace the contrastingly soft lips when a whispered moan that sounded very much like _Kenny,_ brushed her fingers.

She pulled her hand back with startled speed, she was about to topple over the edge of the tiny couch, when very male arms wrapped around her waist. "Good mornin'," the sleepy male voice uttered in her ear.

"Morning…" Mac whispered cautiously back, the voice sounded strangely familiar, but she wasn't going to trust it, not yet. "Where am I?" the strangely male voice began to chuckle, his voice sounded hoarse, world-weary, and just plain tired.

"Welcome to Hell, love," he muttered, his breath tickling her ear and his voice sending procreating-nerve-endings throughout her body, "Did you think it could be any place else?"

Mac frowned, "Are you the Devil, then?" she felt him smile.

"Some have thought so," was his one response.

"And you?" she murmured, "What do you think?" her voice sounded just a little too breathy for her liking and her body was reacting to him with a little too much lust; she hadn't even seen his face and her body was screaming for him! She hoped he hadn't noticed.

"Me…" he held on that one word as if no one had ever asked him what he thought of himself, "Me, I think it's time to get up, Mackenny." With that he sat up, forcing Mac out of the curve of his body, placing her feet firmly on the floor. She turned to stare at him in question.

He was handsome. No, not handsome, he was too weathered to be truly handsome; he was more rakish, rougher. But his eyes, they were truly remarkable. Green fire encased by shadows from sleepless nights and fringed with lines made from both laughter and tears. She remembered those eyes, remembered them as if from some long forgotten dream, or nightmare. Then one memory became clearer, she'd been eleven, maybe a little older, and he'd come to her house; no, not her house, but he'd been there, he'd been there to help find…to help find her mother.

"Harry Potter?" she half whispered, half croaked.

"Mackenny Snape or is it Black?" he reiterated with a calm Mac didn't feel.

"Mackenny Turner, my father doesn't exist."

"Well that's too bad, because you have a man, two men who have claimed you thusly and one man is in dire need of your help."

Mac scoffed, her reaction highly Snape-like, "I have Five other siblings who can help him-"

"No."

"What?"

"I said no, you don't have siblings that can help. They're all dead, Mac, the ones that would be willing to help, anyways; and then there's the bloody reason we need you."

Mac stared at him in open-faced horror, "Why do you need me? Why come to me?"

Harry sighed, "You know that answer, Kenny, don't make me say it out loud."

"I need to hear it!" she hissed vehemently.

He stared into her eyes quietly a moment before quietly stating, "Miles." Mackenny felt her world careen violently out of control before Harry was holding her, shushing her and telling her everything would be alright; and of course it would, but to get there she might just have to kill her brother in the process.

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A/N- Done, the next won't be so long, I promise, I just haven't had much drive to write, my source has hence become my muse- so enjoy and please review. 


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